


Balm

by orangescribbles



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Gen, Insecurity, Pre-Slash, can be read as either platonic or romantic affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 20:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11043900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangescribbles/pseuds/orangescribbles
Summary: It's a difficult thing, to be to Shirota what Shirota is to Misono.





	Balm

**Author's Note:**

> i think about mahiru feeling like he isn't enough a lot

Misono looks to Shirota whose eyes are wide with tears, large and heavy, in his lashes and face unchanging, as if unused to the very act of crying. It's unsettling to see such a frozen expression on Shirota's face when Misono is only ever used to varying levels of emotion on the planes of his face. Yet here, in this moment, there is only an uncomprehending pinch to Shirota's brows and nothing more.

There is only a statue before him.

Not a single sound leaves either of their lips, it's as though both he and Shirota are caught off guard; Misono idly wonders if Shirota's ever expected himself to cry. But perhaps not, there is too much strain in the bony curves of Shirota's shoulders.

The moment passes, slowly, barely, and the air around them turns heavy and brittle as though the world is halting itself. There are appropriate words for this moment, Misono tells himself, but there is only bubbling worry at the back of his mind. It will do Shirota no good.

It's in moments similar to this that Misono wishes frantically that Lily were there, with a kind word and warm hands to soothe away the crease in both their brows. But it's only Misono, and only Shirota who are here. The awkwardness of it all begins to weigh heavily on Misono, helplessness teetering easily at the side.

Grappling uselessly at whatever words float in his head, Misono opens his mouth but the nervous shuffling of Shirota snaps it back closed.

His throat burns and bubbles like a cauldron overflowing with smoke.

The quiet, an old friend in his early youth, is now nothing more than hands around his neck that squeeze and suffocate tirelessly. It deters him, somewhat, but the manner in which Shirota's shoulders sag imperceptibly in the wake of not being good enough spurs Misono on.

"Shirota," Misono manages to say as he dares to lay a hand on Shirota's shoulders, the boniness of it so easily felt beneath his fingers. Sadness of a sort dashes in his mind at how even Misono's own shoulders are not as scrawny as Shirota's before a sudden dryness makes him pause.

Shirota turns his still teary eyes towards him, confusion evident even under the bare light of the room. It's something of a sight to behold, beautiful in its brokenness. Patience settles around the niches of Shirota's face, and Misono realises that he's meant to speak this time.

But words built on sincerity are difficult to come by, and he wonders why it's him in this place. It's a mystery that it is must be Misono who's to tend to the softness of Shirota's heart rather than someone more dependable in such matters. In this regard, Misono will only fail Shirota who deserves much more than a boy who fumbles over affection and tenderness.

Still, he tries for Shirota, for the boy with stars in his eyes and the warmth of the sun at the centre of his being. With determination, he searches himself for words that hold meaning to them both and are capable of bearing the importance of what Misono needs to say.

Simple, he thinks abruptly, is likely the better course. With Shirota, it is simplicity that he must pattern his words after.

"Shirota," Misono says again, this time somewhat embolden by the mantra of dear Shirota, and leans in close to whisper, "Shirota, you are enough. You are more than enough."

It should worry him, that his words draw out a sob from Shirota's quivering lips yet somehow, when the heaviness in the air is cast away, he cannot find it in himself to do so. The tension in the corners of Shirota's face snaps away, and it's as if he's caught up with himself.

The world is again in motion.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, okay, let me just say once more that i ship mahiru with nearly everyone because how can i not??? he's a precious cinnamon roll son who may or may not be the sun HUHU


End file.
